


This is so wrong in many levels, but there is hope yet.

by Miss Hiraya (Miss_Hiraya)



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Meetings, M/M, Unbeta-ed, War!AU, assassin!Clint, basically no superpowers but HYDRA is still the megalomaniac evil organization, but dont worry nothing happened, soldier!bucky, there's also slight non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 15:11:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6663718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Hiraya/pseuds/Miss%20Hiraya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We're in the middle of war and suddenly we're seeking help from shady ninja assassins- why are they covering their faces oh no that guy has the bluest eyes I've ever seen, Steve. Also I might have accidentally ripped his mask off and now he's kneeling in front of me and tugging my pants down." AU</p><p>This idea is inspired from the movie Dragon Blade scene. And then I added a twist because Winterhawk. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is so wrong in many levels, but there is hope yet.

**Author's Note:**

> this has been an idea of mine for quite a while now. I hope you enjoy! i might turn this into a series.

**Arms**

Steve says good morning in a way that tries to be positive but only comes off as sarcastic. There's no good in mornings when HYDRA armies are approaching the border and can attack at any moment they let their guard down.

Bucky strides across their camp with his best friend alongside him. It's too early in the morning for meetings, negotiations and planning strategic alliances but when you're in situations like these, it doesn't matter when the sun came up or when it's going to set. It matters when is the best time to defend, to attack and to make a tactical retreat.

Still. He hasn't even grabbed his ritual dose of caffeine. Snow is biting his toes off despite wearing boots, and his prosthetic arm is colder than comfortable. Bucky sighs in resignation, the breath he releases forms into a puff of white air that Steve notices. The Captain looks with empathy and throws his best encouraging look.

Winter is his hated season. Mornings with no caffeine is his loathed time.

Still, they need to seal this deal if they want to increase their chances of ending this war. Tony can only do so much to support the military with his inventive genius mind, and connections with a few government leaders. Bruce is doing his best finding the cure of the pandemic that's spread throughout the land by HYDRA's advancing biological war tactics. Thor and his legendary troops are holding the enemies off the coast as much as they can. If ending this disaster meant calling out for the secretive tribe of mercenaries, then so be it.

They arrive at one of their tents. Natasha stands out in the dim light with her fiery hair and just because she makes herself be noticed. She is the best spy in their arsenal, the Black Widow, and he's shown first-hand how this woman is the definition of a femme fatale. Natasha wears a coat over her usual get-up when she's not in the field: a red tank top, military pants and black boots. They exchange greetings, and then Natasha wastes no time in introducing the group of strangers inside their tent.

"Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes. This is Jacques Duquesne. Also known as The Swordsman, leader of the 'mercenaires de cirque'." Right. That explains the outlandish dark purple outfit and the collection of various swords on his hips. Bucky initially thought there was a cosplaying group that got lost in their base but that could be his pre-caffeine mind spewing nonsense.

Duquesne smiles with a bit of pride and shakes gloved hands with him and Steve with a grip that's strong and made to kill. His eyes are twinkling like the blades on his arsenal, but Bucky thinks the man could have done without the trimmed mustache. There are two men each to his side wearing identical dark purple vests under a sleeveless black hood that extends to their knees. Their noses down to their necks are covered in gray leather mask. There's a vine of tattoos crawling from their wrists to their arms, intricate, which the two of them share including Duquesne. Their leader doesn't wear a mask though. One guard was shorter than the other, but they were almost similar in muscle build.

As much as Bucky hates to admit it, his outfit probably is more comfortable in this cruel coldness than their gears right now. Also, has anyone noticed those arms? Not the taller one, mind you. The tanned skin covering those tight muscles are enough to take Bucky's attention.

Bucky sits through the whole conversation while Steve and Jacques discuss the terms. Jacques turns out to be a straightforward guy with a mind of a mercenary. As long as they get what they signed up for, they will lend their help. That was fine for Steve, and a bonus when Natasha herself approves of it. Bucky doesn't know what else to do than taking notes and ogling- staring at the two other men in the room who looked liked  badass versions of Robin Hood.

Oh, Bucky thinks, they use bow and arrows? That explains the gorgeous inked biceps. Though why do they have to wear masks and conceal their faces? Bucky's senses tenses in suspicion; the feeling of someone hiding an ulterior motive sending warning bells to his instincts.

"How do we know you're not working for them?" Bucky puts a hand on the table, drawing attention to him.

Jacques doesn't look put-off by the question, as if it's something he answers every day. The older man smiles, tapping his fingers on the edge of the table. "My people are loyal to an extent. However there are other ways to prove it than my companions showing their faces to you. Surely, you wouldn't want the consequences."

Bucky relents, fingers curling into a fist, when Natasha's voice cuts the building tension. "As long as you do your end of the bargain, there isn't a problem. Right?" She looks to the three men with gaze that can freeze a lesser man.

"Yes. Of course."

The meeting is over with that statement. One of the soldiers escorts the trio outside. Bucky locks eyes with Natasha's green ones and finds what he needs to know. Bucky trusts Natasha's judgment so much after it saved them multiple times, so he will trust her again in this.

He doesn't see Jacques' shadow nor any of his companions for two weeks. In fact, he's already forgotten his curiosity about the mysterious guy with gorgeous biceps. He gets busy doing other things that just keeps coming as HYDRA approaches in assault.

He gets busy holding the line and protecting Steve's back.

-

**Hair**

Two weeks. It takes exactly two weeks, a well-planned ambush, and six close encounters with bullets for Bucky.

The air above his head whizzes sharply. Out of reflex he looks out to where the unknown projectile lands only to see a black arrow sticking from one of HYDRA soldier's eye socket. The next second witnesses a torrent of black arrows piercing through the whole battalion. Bucky looks everywhere and sees no one where the shots should have been fired in those angles, but they're here. Steve takes a moment to be surprised, before he shares a look with him and then to Natasha who slinks in and out of their visions. They're here. The Midwestern mercenary tribe.

Oh, Mr. Mysterious guy with gorgeous biceps must be here, too. He stops that train of thought easily, distracted by the incoming arrows seemingly materializing out of the snowed skies. The troops are slowly retreating while Bucky yells their advance. By the end of the encounter, they've lost fifteen men and the surviving ones are injured in various ways. Duquesne's men appear out of their hiding spots, brushing snow out of their thick-furred coats and hooded heads.

They were going to live for another day. That already means so much for Bucky and the remaining of their troops. He catches the glimpse of the two men trailing their leader closely and recognizes the man by the tattoo on his arm. He ruffles his stark white hood and shakes the cover minutely, but Bucky has seen enough to discover that Mr. Mysterious man with gorgeous biceps is also a blond beauty. He has spiky sandy blond hair. And his movements are silent that leaves no tracks behind the snow. His aura is unassuming, but there's something in his nature screams that he's a predator.

Bucky has never been this curious over a stranger. But none of the mercenaries seemed to be social. They respond to questions and orders from Jacques and Steve, but they obviously maintain distance when they can.

Steve appears back to his side after thanking the backup troops, weary and a whole night sleep overdue. He smiles at Bucky and pats his shoulder, "Let's go home, Buck."

Bucky snorts in dry humor, "I don't know, Steve. Brooklyn's too far from here."

-

**Eyes**

His back meets the cold concrete which doesn't shield him for long when another shot assaults it. There's a guy next to him wearing layers of dusty and patched up clothes but his coat is as white as the dull snow. The guy's hands are gloved and cold; his grip is strong enough to haul Bucky out of the pulverized wall. Bucky gets acquainted up close to the archer's half-masked face and meets blue eyes under the dark hood.

Holy fuck, his eyes are blue. 

Another explosion brings his self-preservation instincts to full gear. Bucky crawls his way out of the debris, the man's back turned to him as he covered his retreat by shooting arrows in an incredible speed. The whole time, he is distracted by the burned image in his eyelids.

His eyes are blue. Blue as Brooklyn's calm skies. Blue as the clear Pacific.

"Earth to Bucky."

He blinks the last encounter out of his mind as Steve waves a hand to his vision. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, sure.."

"You spaced out. Something on you mind?"

"Blue."

"What?"

"His eyes, Steve.. They're blue." He looks up Steve as if the statement didn't just confuse his concerned friend.

"Who?" The blond man asks, brows furrowed together. Bucky shakes his head. "Never mind" He can't figure out what's wrong with himself. Why is he interested of a stranger who happens to be a god at archery with strong arms, blond hair and a pair of mind-blowing blue eyes?

He doesn't even know what face that mask hides from them! He could have pointed teeth, or creepy wide lips! Maybe there's a really dark secret hidden amongst the tribe members that's why they conceal their appearances excessively.

Maybe it's just that they're shy in nature. Most probably, they just valued confidentiality in their line of work. They were mercenaries in flesh and blood, trained with a moral compass different from the norm. They can be anybody's hound dogs, anybody's nightmare, and anyone's weapon. They can be anything without being someone permanently. And maybe the mask is there to protect what left of themselves after so many identities they needed to fit in to.

But maybe underneath the leather mask was a man with breath-taking smile and a face of a god destined to cause wars between nations. If one had eyes that held the open skies, that assumption shouldn't be far from truth. He is an assassin, yes, but maybe there is a bit humanity left underneath the cold-blooded persona just like how the Winter Soldier is just one side of James Buchanan Barnes, as what Steve spent years of patience convincing him.

Damnit. He shouldn't have let Steve drag him to the world of cheesy romance novels and sappy television series.

Natasha, the sly fox, quips from behind where she's cleaning her weapons, "He's crushing on someone. He's growing up, Steve."

Bucky pointedly throws the redhead one of his blades, which the other dodges just as easily.

Great. They're in the middle of war, and he's crushing on a deadly mercenary he doesn't even have a clue about. He hopes that just like every other infatuations he has had, this will go away too. Soon.

-

**Face**

Mr. Mysterious-blond-beauty-with-gorgeous-biceps-and-blue-eyes lingered in the back of Bucky's mind whenever his mind isn't preoccupied with the pile of crap they deal every day. HYDRA seems to have taken a rest day, seeing that they have another pawn in the game. It will only be a matter of time before they make a countermove though.

But on those days that there's just nothing else to ponder about, Bucky can't help but replay the old memories he used to have when he was the Winter Soldier and HYDRA's brainwashed assassin. Those give him headaches. Hell, he still has minor problems with his triggers.

Sometimes, he thinks of home. In Brooklyn, where he lived. Where he and Steve grew up. In New York, where they met Natasha who happened to be a defector to the KGB, Tony the billionaire behind the Stark Industries and Steve's boyfriend, and Bruce Banner the scientist who's friends with Tony but more chill and maturity. Though sometimes, they give him a depressing mood throughout the day, too.

 

So he thinks of the mysterious guy and how he might look like. Replays the moments he's seen the mercenary in his element in the middle of an attack. How his arrows fly straight to the targets without an effort. How he might sound behind the mask. The arms, oooh- Does it help that the whole bunch of them are huddled just seventy-six steps away from him? And that the subject of his musings is currently fiddling with the strings of his bow with those skilful fingers? No it doesn't.

"-ir, a HYDRA army has breached the parameters in the south!”

HYDRA. These guys really know what a good timing is. "They're gonna find out our camp out here. We have to move to the forests to get the upper hand." Steve appears amongst the crowd of soldiers getting ready to fight. Jacques leads his people to somewhere where they'll eventually meet up. Maybe somewhere in the deep snow-covered forests.

HYDRA is advancing quickly than they anticipated, but Steve follows the plan and makes every soldier play their part. He's up high, sniping one enemy at a time when they get close. And then, HYDRA brings the techy cannons.

And then everything goes to hell.

"We need back-up, Steve" He relays to the comm. unit to his best friend who responds equally in an annoyed tone. "I have Nat on it. HYDRA seems every eager today."

They, however, are outnumbered. As per usual. But they had worse.

In the mind-numbing terror and chaos screaming decibels at him, he fails to notice an outraged shot from the other side causing the tree to his left bursts into splinters. It falls by default because of gravity and it's only Bucky's rotten luck that it goes in his direction. He scrambles away and the rocky path of the ground does not help at all. Another shot blows to the ground not far to his right. Bucky refuses to bring down his rifle before he shoots the fucker down.

He makes the shot. He always does.

He also hears Steve barking orders to regroup at the forests, where there are as many terrains and elevation and sniper spots to be used. He's almost relieved. Almost. Because he soon realizes the amount of damage the murdered tree caused. There's a body flung across not far from the smoking rubble, it's bow lying in pieces a few feet ahead, and Bucky only thinks about how he's lost too many people in his hands; he doesn't have the luxury to have another in his name just because he failed to shoot an enemy dead earlier.

This is war. He gets it. People die. But as much as he can, he would try to prevent it on his watch. He's supposed to be the Winter Soldier, damnit!

Bucky crawls toward the body and sees blood slowly blooming at one side of the guy's clothes. Upon closer inspection, he's slowly horrified of how familiar the unconscious man is judging by his blond hair, his tattoos that seemed to be subconsciously imprinted on his mind, and the half of his face. Great, it's Pretty Blue Eyes. Panicking, Bucky checks for a pulse, tries to rouse the man but only gets a muffled groan in return. Not dead. Okay, awesome... Bucky hisses at the smell of blood and almost rips the thick jacket open to reveal a wound on the man's left abdomen. The guy groans through gritted teeth when Bucky helps him up on one side, gets them under cover.

He doesn't know what possessed him to do it, but he honestly thinks it was because he was saving the guy. He rips the leather mask to make the breathing easier, and then intently focuses on stopping the bleeding, all while mentally panicking himself. "Now would be a great time for reinforcements." he mutters.

"They're on their way. ETA four minutes. Where are you, Barnes?" A crack and sizzle slightly distorted the voice, but he recognizes Steve anyway.

"I got a man down, Stev-" a punch knocks him to the side, turning his world in a haze for a moment before he instinctively grips his boot knife and his other metal arm catches the fist and twists it so he can pin the attacker.

"Barnes, are you alright?!" He hears Steve voice distantly in his ear, but he's too distracted at the moment. In front of him, looking like a predator with cold blue eyes and pale face, was the guy he just tried to save a mere minute ago. Said guy is also looking for all intents murderous at him, but that's beside the point.

He was right. Pretty Blues has a face worth fighting a war for. And did he just say that piece of sappy crap? Because the guy is definitely blushing, even if it's only noticeable at the tips of his ears. Cute.

Damnit.

"Barnes! Come in!" Steve's voice saves him from further embarrassment. He answers back with an, "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Just got hit-"

"Is it serious?"

"Nah, I'll be fine." Oh, he will be. There's a gorgeous guy in front of him looking alarmingly hot even with a fiercely blank expression on his face. Steve sighs minutely, and tells him back up is in two minutes.

Right. War. Barnes, focus.

"Look, I-" Bucky glances back to the other man, but he's gone, he hasn't even noticed how he slipped from his grip or if he loosened it someway. His heart doesn't quite sink, but it does feel a little cold.

-

**Voice**

He doesn't see him again for another week. But that's quite okay because that means he's still alive to make it through the week, and he hopes the other guy is well too. Sometimes when he allows his mind to wander, he thinks of blue eyes and blond hair, pursed lips and sharp jaw. He thinks of how he'd look like smiling, how his eyes would crinkle in something else than cold apathy. He thinks of the man's voice and what it would be like hearing him talk. He thinks of the dangerous man poised to kill him with a glare, but blushing at a compliment subtly. And oh, wow Bucky. How has he fallen for a man he barely even knows?

The source of his musings suddenly becomes too close to him for comfort, one unsuspecting cold evening when a firm grip drags him inside one of the storage rooms. It was dark, and the room has no lights, save for a few drawers and broken chairs. He comes face to face with the same azure gaze that went straight to his soul. The shorter man steps back, and suddenly he's stripping-

Wait. Back up.

Strong hands deftly reach to unbutton his pants and tugs- whoa.

Back up.

"What are you doing?!" Bucky manages, his voice hushed but all sorts of confused and defensive. The man apparently takes it as a yes to kissing, because Bucky just sort of just got his breath taken in a clash of lips and teeth.

Calloused hands roamed all over his torso, suggesting, _demanding_. And honestly, as much as this goes straight to one of his wet dreams, this just doesn't sit right. It's wrong in so many levels. So Bucky pushes back, holds the man by the shoulders and steadies him. He puts on his serious face and levels the man with a glare. "What the hell are you doing?!” Bucky barks, demanding an answer. When there’s no answer, he grips the man’s wrists instead, tugging gently. And they stare down for a stretch of seconds. Bucky thinks he can get lost in those icy blue orbs.

The man looks down, takes a deep breath before glancing back up. There’s a certain accent that embeds itself in the way he speaks and for the first time Bucky hears the stranger’s voice. “You know why we wear masks? It’s a mark. We are assassins, we make our identities. As long as we stay hidden, we answer to anyone without revealing ourselves. Because of our masks, we can do our jobs. We can be ourselves. And you,” he utters sharply, “took that. And now you’re stuck with me now.” He says finally.

“I answer to you now. Whatever you want, I will give it as long as it’s possible. Sex, money, slave, drugs, anything... you guys want it like this right?” The blond man smirks, but it’s not welcoming. Somehow he makes it sound insulting. Bucky is a man, not a pervert. The last time he checked, he’s not that kind of a sick bastard either. He’s silent; both of them are. However, the assassin seemes to take it as a cue and proceeds tugging on his belt and kneels.

Bucky scrambles, kneels down to the other man’s level and says, “What if I don’t want this?” It’s strange enough that he got stuck in a deal, and don’t take this the wrong way but he’s also beyond confused and frankly dumfounded. He knows to an extension that some tribes had their strange norms and rules. HYDRA’s done it before with him although it’s different in a twisted way, dehumanizing assets so they would have no problem making puppets out of them. This guy seems not different... only it’s not HYDRA, it’s their code. It’s primitive and bizarre but it’s theirs.

The blond man flinches but before Bucky could apologize, he cuts him off with a scoff that sounded daggers. “Lucky for you, the feeling is mutual. But I’ve done enough dishonor to my tribe to complain so like it or not, I’m stuck with you.”

Bucky slides down on his ass the rest of the way. He hears the other say, “Are we going to the part where I show you how amazing I can be in se-“

“No.” Bucky shakes his head more than necessary. This is wrong. So wrong.

“You’re a virgin.” At that, of course Bucky snaps back in return.

“What the hell, that’s not- what. Wait a minute, are you not even going to go against this?!” He protests.

“Not allowed to. You could kill me, or I could kill you and be dead by morning too. Yeah, we could do that-“

“NO! No killing! What the hell does that even mean?”

The guy’s actually capable of other expressions other than coldness because he rolls his eyes hard, “It means you’re going to have to get used to me or die with aneurism. Is this really too hard to grasp?”

“Well, yeah!” Bucky waves a hand vaguely, “This is all sorts of wrong! Steve is going to have kittens!” Bucky nearly loses it.

“Well, whatever. You’re going to tell me what you want ‘cause I’m not good at guessing and I don’t want to traumatize a virgin.” He taunts, but stands up and gathers his clothes anyway. In the light of the silver moon, his body is a masterpiece of scars, tanned flesh, defined muscles and well-toned chest. Bucky swallows, looks away. He catches the other man smirk mischievously. Oh boy, he knows how to play his charm. He makes a move for the door, but finally (finally!) Bucky gets his wits back and gathers himself up. “Wait...”

A pause, “Will I ever get your name for a start?”

Blond guy stops in his tracks, so Bucky continues with “… I’d like to be friends with you.” He sounds like a child, but hey nobody’s going to call him out on it.

“You have friends.”

“No harm in having one more.”

Maybe this guy’s different, maybe this would help him. It’s not Steve’s fault, but sometimes the memories hurt more than they help. Nat understands, but she’s dealing with it by not dealing with it- someday, he’ll probably master it, but not today. The others are either not close enough or he just doesn’t bother with them. The rest are wary of him, of his arm, of what he can do and he gets it.

 “Clint. It’s nice meeting you, James Buchanan Barnes aka Winter Soldier.”

Maybe he’s just taking advantage in his own way, too. Because Clint doesn’t have a choice. He feels guilty. But Clint is grinning; it’s small but it’s a nice change from his earlier attitude. He kind of prefers him this way. Bucky finds himself mirroring the expression.

“Call me James. Or Bucky.”

**Author's Note:**

> how was it? *eager puppy face*


End file.
